NoName Island
by Aeromance
Summary: "Of course it is happening in your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"  Harry turned his head and spit out sand. What, then, was this?
1. Chapter 1

A slow rhythmic crush filled the air, interspersed with high cries swaying in the lazy wind. Heat sashayed softly down along with the breeze, settling over the sand and constantly battling with the cool sea air. Wind gently ruffled everything it touched, bringing the island to life. Everything moved together, led by a universal beat.

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?"

Harry turned his head and spit out sand. What, then, was this?

With all of the real-world aches settling back into his body, he made his way back to his feet slower than usual and with no small amount of stiffness. Frowning as he brushed off the front of his robe, and considered all the hard to reach places that sand had somehow already gotten, Harry realized a full robe wasn't exactly suited for a place like this. Unlike last time, nothing about his appearance changed at his wish for some shorts.

His bare feet shuffled awkwardly in the warm sand as he surveyed the area around him. Lush, green forest served as a back drop for the thin ring of gold-tinged sand running each way as far as the eye could see. In front of him, the blue ocean continuously made a dance of approaching and retreating, waving seductively at Harry with each pass. The waves in the sea continued up through the sand, making small and large dunes in the glittering beds, and even up along rolling wild grass and trees, finally ending in large splashes of rock, standing as a small mountain at least a mile behind the edge of the trees.

Energy vibrantly thrummed throughout the entire area and flowed easily through Harry, making no distinction between empty air and his own solid body. A pinpoint behind Harry's navel blossomed in warmth and radiated outwards, making it impossible to abstain from smiling and breaking out in small, pleasant shivers. Deciding to enjoy this scene and throw caution to the wind, Harry began to slip his fingers under his robe so as to discard it and enjoy the beach bare.

An errant cry, too deep to be accounted for by the lazy flying seagulls, made Harry freeze. He quickly straightened his robe and turned toward the sound. It was too far off and muddled by the natural sounds of the beach to be coherent, but Harry was certain it had been words called out. The first thing he saw in the distance was a fire slowly dancing along the sand towards him, swaying carefree in the wind. Under the fire, the sand seemed to shift and shimmer, reaching out as if to hold onto the vibrant life the first possessed. Then, accompanying the fire was a thatch of green grass, scurrying along with the flame. Harry rubbed his eyes vigorously, ignoring the burning sensation of errant sand grains scratching at the corner of his eyes. Something wasn't right about this scene before him, magic or no.

After rubbing his eyes unhindered, the oddness dawned on Harry. He didn't have his glasses. As if to double check, he slowly ran his fingers over his eyes and left ear. Yes, he was sure, he had no glasses. Harry hesitantly took a step back as the fire continued to approach him. Not only was he in an unknown situation, with an unknown entity traveling towards him, but now he didn't have the advantage of accurate sight, and now that he was counting his losses, a dull thud hit the bottom of his stomach. He didn't have his wand, either.

Effectively defenseless, Harry stood there and squinted at the fire, shimmering sand, and grass, hoping to realize what sort of creature he was dealing with before it was upon him. This time, he was sure the cry was a word. He leaned forward and strained his ears to hear, and froze upon hearing the repeated cry. "'Arry!"

Another step back, he wasn't sure if the creature knowing and recognizing him was good or not. Judging from the course of his life so far, he decided it was probably a bad thing. The fire/sand/grass thing sped up as it grew nearer, its voice becoming clearer, "Harry, is that really you?"  
>Harry squinted and leaned forward. Wait, that voice sounded familiar. His unfocused eyes wandered in thought, trying to recall that voice. A large, warm weight crushed Harry and eradicated all thought. His world turned sideways, and kindly introduced him to the warm sand beneath his feet. Harry coughed as the force from the drop kicked air up out from his lungs. His arms instinctively wrapped around the weight on top of him, still unsure what exactly it was. Human, he was pretty sure from the feel, but he had learned from the past seven years to be careful and never assume.<p>

"Christ, mate, it's really you."

Now, that voice, so close to his ear, was easily recognizable. It was George Weasley. Harry laughed and coughed again. He was sure he had questions and confusion clawing up from his stomach at the entire chain of events, but he was just too inexplicably happy about having George here with him to care. Finally, they pulled back to look each other in the eyes.

Those blue eyes were lit up once again with laughter, but something seemed slightly off about them. Perhaps they looked so off because he knew there wasn't another pair beside them, following its gaze without even trying.  
>"What are you doing, George?" Harry was reluctant to let him go, as if he would disappear the second he was outside his reach.<p>

George's brow furrowed. "I'm not George, mate. I'm Fred. Known us for seven years and still can't tell us apart? You're worse than our mum."

It was Harry's turn to be confused. "But, you're…" Harry cut himself off and clamped his mouth down. That just didn't seem to be the proper thing to say to someone, informing them that they're dead. Either he knows and is probably upset about it or doesn't and…should stay happy like he is now.

An odd look ran through Fred's eyes before several emotions flashed briefly – sadness, anger, fear, and longing. Then that bright look won out again and Fred simply smiled. He stood and pulled Harry to his feet as well.

"This isn't the best place for a big black robe, mate." Fred gestured to his own attire. Now, Harry's blurred vision of a monster made sense, the bright red hair, the loud green trunks, and Fred's tan torso had created the monster.

"Er….I know, but I don't have trunks or anything to wear." Harry scratched the back of his head nervously. This whole situation was beyond bizarre and yet, he was worried about admitting he didn't have the proper attire for a beach trip.

Fred laughed easily. "No worry, just take off the robe and everything. Just wear your pants. Those will work just fine." Standing back, Fred gestured at his clothes.  
>Again, Harry felt wrong-footed, and seemingly for all the wrong reasons. "I don't have anything else on. Just the robe." Looking at the ground, Harry shuffled his bare feet in the warm sand, feeling it run between his toes.<p>

"Oh." Fred let his head tilt back a little as he let out loud guffaws. "Oh! You're starkers under that?" He asked, continuing to chuckle, as he tugged on Harry's robe. Quickly, Harry clamped his hands down on the robe and nodded mutely as he made a second attempt at furious wishing for clothing. He even widened it to any clothing of any kind. Trunks, trousers, pants, shorts, even a long shirt would do in a pinch. He was relatively assured this counted as a pinch.

"Well, then, just take it off."  
>More laughter met the utterly scandalized look Harry shot at Fred. After giving dramatic glances in all directions and even mock-shuffling through the sand, Fred turned to Harry and said, "There's no one here but us and you'll sweat your bits off if you spend the whole time in the cloak. Look, you're already sweating bullets." Fred reached out and ran a finger across Harry's forehead, collecting several beads on his finger, before wiping it off on the offending robe. "Plus," leaning in, Fred grinned, a predatorial edge to his lips. Harry swallowed automatically. "How else will you be able to swim?"<p>

Laughter followed. The way lights in his eyes danced when he laughed entranced Harry. It was so good to see Fred so happy. After what had happened… all his fault.

Harry reached down and yanked off his robe, letting it fall onto the sand. Fred's eyes widened comically as he took Harry in. There was something akin to approval in his eyes. "Bold," he whispered. "Georgie woulda done it, too." Slowly, he stepped out of his own trunks and turned towards the water. He glanced at Harry and took in the questioning look. "So, we're on even footing. Won't do you any favors again, though. Think before you accept such a dare. Now, three…two...one…go!"

Without thinking, Harry read the look in Fred's eyes and followed his movements, tensing, then shooting forward towards the water, beckoning them excitedly into its depths.


	2. Chapter 2

**_As always, for my Soul Hag._**

Teeth dug into his bottom lip as he gripped the thick shaft; it seemed to fit perfectly in his hand. His eyes screwed up in concentration, waiting for the perfect moment to release. Sweat dripped down his brow and blurred his vision - there was too much assaulting his senses, how could he be expected to-

"Now!"

Harry let loose for all he was worth and heard a satisfying splash, not yet daring to look down and see the fruit of his efforts.

"Aw, no, Harry! You missed, you missed!" Fred easily hopped down from a thick, flat rock and splashed into the water beside Harry.

Harry had been so sure he had it this time. He had followed Fred's every word and yet- With a sigh, Harry picked up the make-shift spear and glared at the fish slipping happily around his legs as if to mock his efforts. He stabbed down the stick again, more in an effort to scare the fish away rather than actually skewer it. It did neither. Figures.

After mentally calling the fish a string of expletives he rarely used on anyone, Harry looked back up to Fred. Fred seemed more amused by the fish's bravery and finesse than anything. A frown tempered Harry's lips as he drew up his brows. He felt eleven again, sure that he couldn't possibly do anything expected of him in the given situation. "I'm...really sorry, Fred. I can try again...?"

Stepping closer, Fred laughed and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Don't be sorry, mate. You were fighting for your dinner, not mine." Somehow, that seemed to make Harry feel better and worse. His face must have shown his mixed emotions and complete lostness on the whole because Fred smiled and turned the harsh shoulder clap - Harry's shoulder could only take so many slaps before it started to get upset and protest such abuse - into a quick soothing rub. "Don't worry. I won't let you starve. Who else would I have to laugh at?"

With that, he must have decided the water no longer held any appeal, because he turned and began toward the shore line, the water slowly retreating from its weak attempt at modesty. Harry was slightly reluctant to follow for that very reason. After having a nude race and splashing about for the better part of- Harry realized he really had no idea how much time had passed. For some reason, he checked his wrist, even as his brain informed him no time telling device was there. Idly, he wished for a watch. And a five star meal, while he was at it. No longer were the thoughts sincere and pleading, but rather now small internal amusements.

Weakly, he kicked at the damn fish and missed it by a wide berth, but it finally swam away. Harry followed Fred as quickly as the water would allow, forgetting whatever modesty he used to have.

HFHFHF

It was hard to decide which was worse: attempting to catch swirling, show-off fish and failing, or attempting to scale trees to catch perfectly stationary fruit and failing. Regardless of where he got the experience, Fred easily climbed, branch by branch, to the tips of any and all large, wooden flora to grab the best fruit. Quickly, Harry took over the job of standing at the bottom, catching the fruit with his red, splintered hands - he could thank his training as a Seeker for his moderate success at that.

There was no easy explanation for how Fred was such a natural. His feet seemed to automatically know where to find purchase where Harry's body had sworn up and down there was none. Still being naked made it even harder. In Harry's case at least.

Something flew by his face, tickling his ear and ruffling his hair slightly, following by an obscene splat. Shit. He hadn't been paying attention. Now he just wasted another fruit.

"Alright, Harry?"

Looking up and squinting, Harry could make out the shock of red hair - he always could. "Yeah, I'm fine," he called back.

"Well, keep your eyes- er, whatever sixth Seeker sense you have - open and catch the damn fruit." A light, careless laugh followed the words and washed away whatever potential sting Harry might have normally felt at the comment.

Wandless, naked, and practically blind, he felt rather useless.

His hand seemed to shoot out of its own volition and catch the plummeting fruit. Loudly, he swore and dropped it. "Mind the pineapple, Harry. They can be a bit rough around the edges." The obvious grin in his voice made Harry smile despite himself as he rubbed his hand on his thigh.

"Stupid git."

"I heard that! I'm not my brother, you know."

Harry smiled again, wondering what it was about the redhead's presence that made everything feel like one big joke.

HFHFHF

A fire softly crackled, dancing gently in the wind, imitating life and demanding attention. Its soft glow illuminated small circle, protecting its occupants from the gathering darkness, and to some degree, staving off the chilling winds. The soft hum of raw energy, interspersed with dense cracks, flowed well with the night, rather than breaking it up. It seemed to be playing to the same beat as the night bugs calling out to each other, and the wind's own haunting melody of farewell to the day behind them.

Harry gazed softly at Fred over the fire, nibbling at a piece of charred pineapple - the crisp edges and harsh citrus was surprisingly delicious.

Fred finally noticed Harry's gaze and returned with an easy smile. Happiness had always seemed to be their - his, Harry corrected himself - natural state. He passed Harry a half coconut and motioned for him to drink from it. Harry did. And promptly spat it out into the sand. Coconut milk: not so delectable. Fred shrugged, still smiling, and accepted the coconut back.  
>The fire did Fred good, lighting up his best features and adding life to his already vibrant hair. It actually made Fred look handsome.<p>

That thought startled Harry. Not so much the observation but the consideration he'd put into Fred now. He and George had always seemed to be oddities in his life. Not just his best mate's brothers, but rather walking punchlines whenever needed. Almost not even - Harry swallowed - people. Until the end of fourth year, he hadn't even considered their dreams and hopes for the futures. They had simply seemed to be a motionless addition to his life: always be there, cracking jokes and annoying Ron. He swallowed again and bit his lip, casting a glance over to Fred.

"Why would have the fish been just my dinner?" He impulsively asked, spurred by a need to fill the silence and a guilty feeling that he'd never been curious about the twins outside of "what are they up to now?"

"I don't eat fish, mate." Fred replied easily.

"Oh," Harry replied automatically, lamely. "Er...why not?" He pressed forward, genuinely confused and curious.

"Personally, it's always been a bit odd to eat anything with a face."

"But-" Harry paused, unsure of himself. Fred's stare made him swallow uncomfortably. Head full of image memories, he started again. "But, I've seen you eat meat loads of times. Molly doesn't cook a meal without it."

Fred's brows drew together as his stare finally left Harry. "No, that's George. He can't get enough. Always eats my portion when we're back home so mum doesn't go mad." The amused light gleamed in his eyes again. "I'd never get a moment's rest if the woman knew I wasn't eating meat. 'But, Fred, you're already so thin! How are you going to keep your strength up? There's a war going on and you're refusing to eat your mother's cooking?'"

Harry snorted in spite of himself. Fred's impression of his overbearing, slightly neurotic but loving mother was spot on. Fred's face easily slid back to his own grin.

Nibbling on his lip, Harry cast a glance around. "Fair enough. I've never really considered it. Meat's just...really good."

Fred shrugged and took another sip of the coconut, looking every bit the odd, nomadic islander. "Plus, I figure if I couldn't positively take it in a fair fight, why eat it?"

Harry grinned. "Don't think you can take a fish?"

A self-deprecating smile flashed across the flickering flames. "Maybe one tiny fish. But what if his family comes at me and tries to off me, all in one go? Or what if he has friends?" Fred threw his arms out wide. "Big friends? Do fish talk to sharks? Do they speak the same language? Would you wager one small meal on that chance?" An errant finger struck out accusingly at Harry before quickly withdrawing from the hot fire. Fred swore and slipped it in his mouth, sucking on the reddened flesh. "Well, would you?" He demanded, muffled.

"No, I s'pose not." Harry chuckled, leaning back on his palms.

Fred stuck his hand out again. "And-" He stopped to stick his finger back into his mouth. "Bloody burn. Hurts like hell without magic to fix it."

"And," taking up Fred's mantle, Harry gestured grandly, "that's not counting cows and pigs which are bloody massive and could probably take me on, without magic, without any help at all."

Fred stared at him. "Yeah, that's...uh, that's what I was going to say."

Harry scrubbed a hand through his hair, not quite sure how to reply to that.

"Well, I'm about ready to conk out." Fred said suddenly, turning away from Harry. Unsure of himself, Harry mirrored Fred's movements, making to lie down.

"Er...Fred?"

"Yes, Harry?"

He didn't quite know how, but he was certain that Fred was making fun of him for some reason. "Not that I'm complaining, but..."

"Seems like that's what you're going to do." Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Just be glad I was resourceful enough to make two pillows but not too greedy to not share."

"And-"

"As far as the sand, that's what a morning swim is for." He could hear Fred rolling over.

"Yeah, that's what I was going to say." Harry mumbled, more to himself.

"I know, Harry. Now go to sleep."

HFHFHF

Lights flare in the sky, creating the effect of fireworks and belying their sinister nature.

"You alright, Freddie?"

A smile easily slides onto his face, but it seems slightly hollow. "Yeah, you?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Promise me something, George. If you die, come back and haunt me."

George snorts and waves his wand airily. "What makes you think I'll be the one to die. You've always been dodgy with your spell work. Harry told me so in seventh year after DA."

"He did not-" Fred reacted quickly and stopped himself just as fast. He didn't look over at George who was smiling. "Wouldn't have fallen for that at any other time, you sod."

George laughs once. "Not my fault."

"Besides," Fred cuts over him, "Any bloke who has the skill and wand to cast a cheering charm coming at your left side will kill you sooner than you can say Abra Kadabra."

George turned to look at him with an odd look smeared over his face. For a second, his lips trembled with unspoken words but then he looked away and smiled. "Okay, Fred. I'll be sure to haunt you. But I demand my own bedroom even if-"

"You won't be able to touch a bit of it, you greedy git."

George waved a hand. "Your request, my terms. Now don't ever expect to get sleep or laid. It'll never happen so long as I-"

Darkness. Pain. Echoes.

"Please, fuck, please haunt me."

Lips rub against pale, cold skin, slick with spit and tears.

"I'll do anything. I won't sleep anyway. Haunt me. I need you, Freddie. I fucking need you, you selfish fucker."

As if some unknown support was kicked out, the world tilted sickeningly. Lights blended and became misshapen. Everything started to spin as voices grew louder into shrill cries, begging - for something, for nothing, for answers, for the end.

Harry twisted awake, gasping, drenched in sweat and tears. Turning, he pressed his face into his arm to muffle whatever horrible noises that were still clawing out of his throat as sobs wracked his body.


End file.
